thered in crowds around
the feasters to watch and listen. Closest of all were the braves and
their sons. Back of them were the squaws and their little daughters.
Timid Hare, beside her young mistress Sweet Grass, listened with wonder
to the noble speeches of the chiefs. Bent Horn spoke first of all.

"My brother," he said to the Great Chief, "our hearts are almost
bursting with gladness that you are with us today.

"And you also"--Bent Horn continued, turning to one after another of
the lesser chiefs, "we welcome you with gladness and feel that the
Great Spirit has sent you to us. In token of our love we have killed
faithful dogs that you may feast. May the Great Spirit bind us closely
together. I say no more."

As Bent Horn ended his speech he lifted before the eyes of the feasters
a carved necklace made of the claws of grizzly bears, and his own robe
of elk skins which he had just taken from his shoulders. Then he
slowly rose and, going to the side of the guest of honor, he laid the
gifts before him. Next, he took other gifts--embroidered moccasins and
leggings--and presented them to the lesser chiefs.

For a moment all were silent. Then the guests themselves made
speeches, each one telling of his love for Bent Horn and his band, and
giving rich gifts in return.

And now the pipe of peace was lighted and brought to Bent Horn.
Solemnly he pointed the stem to the north, the south, the east, and the
west. Last of all, he lifted it towards the sun. Then he spoke.
"How--how--how," he said slowly. Then in silence he smoked it, but
only to take one long whiff, after which he held it in turn to the
mouths of the other chiefs, that they might smoke it also.

Not a word was spoken by any one during this solemn time. But as soon
as the last guest had smoked, the dog-meat, floating in rich gravy, was
brought from the steaming kettles and handed around in wooden bowls
among the guests. All ate their fill. Then silently, they got up and
went away. They had smoked and eaten the sacrifice together. Surely,
they thought, there could be no better token of their friendship for
each other.

Timid Hare looked on from afar. She felt pride in her dear mistress's
brother who had given up his own pet dog, in place of Black Bull. She
was also filled with wonder at the greatness of the Dahcotas.

"They are a mighty tribe," thought the little girl. She drew a long
breath of sadness, feeling that she could never hope